100 Books Like The Strange

This science fiction novel, written by Daniel Abraham and Ty Franck under the pen name James S. A. Corey, was the beginning of the Expanse series (now totaling 9 novels and additional stories). It is one of the best space science fiction novels of the 21st century and became the basis for one of my favorite TV/streaming series, The Expanse.

The books dive deep into the political, social, and cultural complexities of sending humans to live on the Moon, Mars, and the asteroid belt, and it’s a nuanced reflection of our current ideas and ambitions when it comes to spaceflight. I am particularly drawn to the depiction of humans who, after multiple generations off Earth, consider their primary identity to be Martian.

It became obvious to me early in this book that Nophek Gloss was written by someone who works with their hands. Not only in how the action was choreographed but also in how the world was described.

This brings a real world feel to the writing as we join Caiden helping his father with the menial tasks that keep a farming community running. Soon after, his whole world is destroyed. But as Caiden escapes and throws in with a ragtag bunch of aliens and a ship with a conscience, we can appreciate his point of view as someone who has seen so little of the universe but is suddenly exposed to multitudes of new and unusual things as he adventures into the unknown.

This book is for sci-fi fans who enjoy great worldbuilding, interesting aliens, and action throughout.

I love that this book is basically a workplace comedy, except the office is tasked with protecting giant monsters the size of Godzilla.

It takes the tired world of monster movies and flips it on its head, focusing instead on the government workers whose 9-to-5 actually involves dealing with them. The dialogue is razor-sharp, the satire of corporate culture had me cackling, and underneath it all, there’s a hopeful message about cooperation and curiosity.

It’s absurdity with heart.

Travis is an apprentice engineer of trans-quantum chambers, stations that transport people to cities all over the universe. On a risky maintenance assignment, something goes wrong, trapping Travis on a distant planet with limited resources as he tries to solve the mystery of what killed all the humans on this world.

The world-building here is a lot of fun to imagine. Combine that with Wilson's descriptive prowess, and you have an immersive adventure to the stars that appeals to the sci-fi nerd that I am.

This book wrecked me; it’s such a deep dive into the lives of the woman brutally murdered by Jack the Ripper. Rubenhold reconstructs their lives with great empathy, bringing them to the forefront of the story. The five were real women who felt love, pain, and hope—not faceless victims of sensationalized murder.

These women are often portrayed as “five prostitutes” in pop culture, but Rubenhold shows that there is no evidence of sex work for most of the women. This book pulls back the curtain on the tension, violence, poverty, and heartbreak in Victorian London. This book brought me to absolute tears. 

This collection of short stories has a special place in my heart.

Stories written about people living in the early sixties in working-class London. The colloquial language rings true in my ears, and the stories belong in that special place held dear by my teenage self. Laugh or cry, I pick the book up when I am at most in need of, no place like home, comfort.

Ken Loach made a film based on the book and followed it up with another one of her books. Poor Cow. Dog-eared and well-worn, the books remain on my shelf.

This book held my hands to a high bar while accumulating, through good storytelling, the truths of a company, both clear and nuanced, as I searched for them in the early George A. Hormel & Company.

Arsenault’s book upends many beliefs we hold about “good companies” that provide stable, long-term jobs to hundreds of employees, like this prominent and popular paper mill in Mexico, Maine, where Arsenault’s family worked through multiple generations. The long-term economic safety and security that employees had felt for years is upended by their numerous life-threatening, sometimes intractable, cancers.

I loved this book for its investigative environmental journalism, its exposure of truths the powerful did not want to be exposed, and its influence on my own research. 

A superb title and an irresistible page-turner. I could have filled whole novels with the jobs described here. Each role was interesting in its own right but also collectively built up really interesting cultural insights. A very strong sense of daily life in all its fun and messiness and a brilliant book to engage not just adults but (with a bit of redaction!) older kids too. 

This book began the entire City Mysteries genre. When French novelist Eugène Sue published it serially in 1842-1843, it took the world by storm and became an instant bestseller. I love the intrigue in the novel. The main character, Prince Rodolphe, is in disguise as a working man in Paris among criminals and the poor with the intent to help them.

I love how the novel shows the complex personalities of the different characters and their backstories, explaining how many became criminals. The novel is full of Gothic atmosphere and helped to change the Gothic from being set in crumbling castles and the past to the present-day and the modern city. This Gothic cityscape reflected the trauma and displacement many felt living in crime-ridden metropolises.

I still remember reading James Alan McPherson’s book for the first time. I was a senior in high school, one of a handful of black students in what had been an all-white private school. I closed the book, thinking, “Finally. Somebody understands.”

Like me, McPherson had gone from an all-black school, college in his case, to a majority-white school, in his case, Harvard Law. He began to write fiction there. It was the mid-1960s, but instead of hewing to familiar tropes of the time, black student unrest, black self-segregation, and black victimhood, McPherson cast an unflinching eye on blacks and whites interacting for the first time as equals.

He also depicted blacks in their own world lovingly but without sentimentality. I knew these people. McPherson taught me to see and appreciate them afresh.